Orelia Walks
by A Newt
Summary: Orelia Amell takes on her Harrowing, life at the Circle, a budding romance with Cullen, and the Blight as she morphs from protected little Circle Mage, into the Hero of Ferelden.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Orelia skidded her feet over the stone steps, conscious of how loud her breathing was getting. The Templars on either side of her made no comment as she stumbled between them. Their faces hid under the shadow and steal of a helmet, leaving Orelia unsure of who escorted her. Her reddish brown hair hung in tangles down her shoulders and back. They hadn't given her time to brush her hair. Orelia sucked in a breath and grimaced. Or her teeth. The staircase ended just ahead in a studded wooden door. The Templar to the right of Orelia thrust it open with a huff.

Inside waited more Templars, including Knight Commander Greagoir. He clenched his helmet in a gauntleted fist. First Enchanter Irving, with his foggy grey beard, waited in their midst. Orelia glanced around, arms clenched tightly over the thin violet robe cinched about her curves. Dust motes drooped lazily from the high arched ceilings, illuminated by the dawn light peeking through the towers arched windows.

"Orelia, child. It is time." Irving extended clubbed fingers in what he obviously meant as a welcoming gesture.

Orelia glanced back as Templars halted behind her, completing the circle the rest of the present order had formed.

"This is my Harrowing, isn't it?" Orelia had suspected as much. There really wasn't any other reason to pull a mage from bed in the middle of the night, unless the Templars had gotten too far into the wine. Orelia glanced at the stoic figures, blushing from the thought.

"Yes." Greagoir stepped forward, grey eyes narrowed on the young apprentice. "It is time to test your strength. See if you have what it takes to control your…abilities."

"What must I do?" Orelia leaned to the left to peek over Greagoir's shoulders. She was certain there must be a demon hiding behind him, waiting to possess her soul.

"You, Orelia, will pass into the Fade to test your strength of mind against the spirits that inhabit it." Irving waved the girl forward and they met at the centre of the room, in front of a white marble dais covered in fine glittery powder.

"Is that..?" Orelia leaned over the sparkling substance, nose twitching at its metallic scent.

"Lyrium, child. And I would advise not touching it until you are ready to enter the dream realm." Irving chuckled as the young mage jerked her face back. "Once the Lyrium touches your skin, you will be transported to the Fade."

"You mean I'll disappear? I'll leave the tower?" Orelia asked, eyes wide with fear.

"Your mind will leave, but your body will remain." Irving said. "Once in the Fade, you will face a demon. If you are able to overcome the demon, you will be granted status as a full mage, no longer an apprentice. If not,"

"I'll die." Orelia whispered.

"Only after you become an abomination." Greagoir interrupted, scowling at the two mages.

"Greagoir," Irving said reproachfully.

"No point hiding the truth from her." He turned the full force of his cold grey gaze on Orelia. "If you fail at your Harrowing, a demon will possess you, mangle that pretty little human body of yours, and try to kill everyone in this room. And the rest of the Circle if it gets the jump on us."

Orelia squeaked, green eyes flashing around the circle of swordsmen. Of executioners.

Irving frowned at her pale, round face. She was still so young. Was she ready? Greagoir certainly thought so, though if it was up to Greagoir every mage would go through their Harrowing after only being here a year. He didn't trust untrained mages, though for good reason.

Irving rested his large hand on the girl's shoulder. "Do not worry, child. You are ready. We wouldn't have brought you if you weren't."

Orelia swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and reached out a small hand to the glowing dust. The dawn sparked through the windows overhead, lighting up the circular room in a cascade of colours. The Templars glowed silver, the dust gold. The Lyrium red.

"Begin."

Greagoir squished his square helmet on and took a step back, motioning for Irving to do the same. Orelia heard the soft whistle of swords being drawn around her, but her eyes held fast on the rose pink sand. She stuck her hand into the Lyrium, fingers sifting through the grains. Pearly light glowed up from the Lyrium and blanketed Orelia's vision. Heart beating fast, she turned her head to look at Irving. White fog met her gaze, obscuring any hint that she still stood in the top of the Circle Tower.

Reality returned in a blaze of orange, green, and black. The colours swirled around Orelia, taking on the form of trodden pathways, eerie mountains, and twisted trees. Everything loomed and bulged as if she stared through a glass orb. The Fade.

Orelia twisted on the spot, goggling at the mysterious place her Masters had spoken of with such reverence, such fear. Dark shapes seemed to loom just beyond Orelia's line of sight, shivering behind the gnarled stumps of purple trees.

"Hello?" Orelia asked cautiously, her thin slippers coughed up purple dust from the path as she turned on the spot. "Is anybody there?"

A shadow detached from the scraggly brush on the edge of the path. It squeaked and scurried at the young mage. Orelia shrieked and jumped back, waving her arms and sending a bolt of spirit infused fire at the thing. It missed, but the shape squeaked and jumped back into the brush.

"I'm sorry!" Orelia folded her purple robe under her knees and knelt to look at the creature. "You startled me, is all."

The shape twitched back into existence, staring up at Orelia with a wiggling black nose and scraggly whiskers.

"Oh, a mouse? What are you doing in the Fade, cutie?"

The mouse glowed a sharp white, forcing Orelia back as it coalesced into the shape of a man. Orelia blinked up at him, face growing pale in the half light.

"Your instincts were right to attack, little mage." The man brushed back coarse blonde hair, as scraggly as the mouse's whiskers. "A demon can take many forms."

"And are you a d-demon?"

The man grinned and offered her a hand up. Orelia scuttled backwards, purple dust clinging to her purple robes. He frowned and dropped the proffered assistance.

"I'm not a demon, sister. I'm a mage like you. Or, at least, I was. When I took my Harrowing."

Orelia pushed herself off the ground, keeping one green eye on the man's hands. They hung limply at his side. He was certainly wearing apprentice robes, dirtied with purple dust and pulled threads, and his face was young beneath the seven-day scruff on his cheeks.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "That I was a mage, from the Circle, just like you." He pointed at her dusty robes with a grimace. "Before they sent me into the Fade to face my Harrowing. I failed. Well, sort of. I never defeated the demon. Never got possessed either, but that doesn't seem to matter to Templars."

"You just stayed here?" Orelia shook her head in confusion. "But then, you should still be alive. In the real world, I mean. Can't you just go back?"

The man laughed, his frumpy hair bouncing. Orelia jumped at the volume, casting cautious glances back over her shoulder.

"Who knows? Can't seem to find the exit. Still here! Part of the Fade." His smile dropped and he glanced around too, as if worried his exultations may have attracted notice. "Sorry about that." He muttered to Orelia. "Never could defeat that demon, anyway. And now they send more lambs to the slaughter." He squinted at Orelia, eyes slowly widening. "But, that power…Maybe **you** could beat him!"

"Well, that's what I have to do, right?" Orelia shivered at the hungry look in his eyes.

"Indeed." The man slacked off, tucking his hands into the pockets of his robe. "Well, off you go. Battle with the demon and good luck to you." He started walking down the path, away from Orelia.

"Wait!" Orelia jogged after him. "Where is the demon? What do I have to do? Do you know?"

The man glanced over his shoulder and shrugged.

"What's your name?" Orelia cried in exasperation, jumping in front of him.

"Mouse." He said with a grin. "A little obvious I guess, but, not like there's anyone to impress around here. Except the demon."

"Mouse." Orelia offered him a shy grin, following him down the purple pathway. "I'm Orelia. It's nice to meet you." Mouse winked at her, nudging a crippled branch out of the way with his bare foot. "So, where's the demon?"

Mouse pointed to a clearing up ahead. It was perfectly round and full of beige sand, normal looking sand, like the kind you could see at the base of the Tower being lapped at by Lake Callenhad. Orelia paused at the edge of the clearing, Mouse hovering behind her.

"Once you step in the ring," Orelia noticed a black smudge running around the circle of sand. "Your Harrowing truly begins."

Orelia turned to the boy, eyes wide with fear. She could feel panic radiating through the soles of her shoes. It felt like it was dripping into the sand, soaking into the Fade and Mouse alike.

"Could you, would you help me?" Orelia asked, shyly. She knew she was supposed to do this alone, but no one had told her she wasn't allowed to ask for help.

Mouse offered her a sad smile. "I could never face it alone, and if I did, with you, if I defeated it and woke up, what then? Would I be freed? Or would I simply find out they killed my body when I never came back."

Orelia frowned. "But if you never try, you'll never know. Isn't that worse?"

Mouse glared at her, anger sparking in his brown eyes, but it quickly softened and he offered Orelia a sheepish smile.

"I guess you're right." He squared his shoulders and stepped forward to face the ring, Orelia followed suit. "Let's do this."

The two mages stepped over the line and white light flared around them, sealing them into the ring with… Fire erupted from the centre of the clearing. Two long clawed fingers the colour of lava, pulled a burning body out of the earth. The demon towered over Orelia and Mouse, the heat thrown off him hotter than any fire Orelia had ever known.

"Once again mortals are thrown to my feast." The voice rumbled from the centre of the being. Terrible and tremulous, like the roar of flame passing through a confined space. "And Mouse along with it. Finally here to test me, Mouse?" The demon laughed, sparks flying and singing the sand around its base. Orelia watched with wide eyes as the sand melted into bubbly glass around the creature's feet.

"Try or die, as my good friend Orelia informs me." Mouse smirked up at the demon, his previous fear apparently burnt away by the demon's presence.

"Orelia." The demon purred out her name, ember eyes sliding to the slighter mage. "Here to test me? Or is it I, who is testing you."

The demon whipped out a white hot claw, aimed at Orelia's chest. She jumped back, the gold brocade on her robe singed. Orelia waved her arms wildly and conjured a shield. It slid into life as a faint blue bubble shivering around Orelia's waggling arms. Mouse darted to the side of the ring, the demon whipping a flaming arm in his direction. Orelia chanted as the demon's attention was distracted and sent a cold blast of ice at him from the ground up. The demon screamed in pain, his colour changing from orange to a white tinged blue. The heat in the clearing intensified. Orelia could feel it shivering through the barricade of her small bubble. Mouse darted across the demon's vision, distracting it from targeting Orelia. The demon whipped a clawed hand at the boy.

"Mouse!" Orelia cried as the hand slashed through the air.

There was a flash of white light and Mouse scampered across the sand, formed once more to his namesake. The demon's hand flowed without making contact.

"Attack!" Mouse squeaked, darting behind the monster.

"Right!" Orelia focussed her attention on the rage demon, narrowing her concentration to the sputtering flames that connected him to the earth. "Freeze!" she screamed channeling another burst of ice magic into the weakened creature's foundation.

The demon groaned and doubled over, swiping fiery fingers at its smoking base. The demon grew smaller, smoke spilling out from every fiery pore. With a keening moan, the demon shrank back into the sand and vanished with a slight pop.

Orelia gasped for air, her shield spell falling off with a silent splash.

"You did it!" Mouse crowed, materializing as a human in front of her. "You actually killed the demon!"

Orelia looked up into the mage's face and sneaked him a shaky grin.

"I did it. I did! I passed my Harrowing!" Orelia jumped up, slippered feet kicking up sand. "Woo hoo!" She grabbed Mouse's hand. "And you helped! You'll get to leave the Fade now, too!"

Mouse nodded excitedly. He glanced around the clearing and covered Orelia's hand with his.

"Time to go home, sister-mage."

Orelia nodded, beaming at him, but her smile dropped when nothing happened. The clearing was silent, green clouds blossomed and shrank overhead, nothing stirred in the shadows.

"Now what? I thought once I defeated the demon, I would wake up."

"You have to will yourself awake." Explained Mouse. "Close your eyes and clear your mind." Orelia did as told, tucking her bright green orbs under brown lashes. "Think about letting go, emptying your mind of any thought, and bringing me in. Bring me with you. Inside." Mouse's voice deepened, taking on a hypnotic cadence.

Orelia's eyes flickered beneath her lashes and a frown curled her lips.

"Mouse, this doesn't seem right."

"Just keep emptying your mind. Closer. Closer." Mouse hissed.

Orelia opened her eyes and screamed.

Mouse had doubled in size. He loomed over her head, face transformed into a gaping, bloody hole. His hands had turned pale and flakey, still curved around Orelia's with a dangerous grip. The hole in his face wavered back and forth in front of Orelia. A dripping yellow tongue slipped over the edges of the lipless mouth and wriggled against Orelia's face. Orelia shrieked and jerked her hands out of Mouse's grip. She kicked at his bent, spindly legs and fell backwards, out of the demon's grasp.

"What are you?" Orelia cried, scrambling farther backwards.

The gaping face waggled in front of her, following her movements on an elongated neck. Sick, gasping sounds permeated the clearing and puss began seeping from the creature's mouth. The head curled back and jerked out at Orelia like a slingshot. A pair of glittering fangs dropped out of the upper jaw, ready to stab and tear through the girl's throat.

"Die, demon!" Orelia slashed her hands up in front of her.

A burning wall of golden light zapped from her palms, blasting the demon back and pinning it to the clearing sand. The creature thrashed under the glowing barrier, screeching and blistering wherever the light touched it.

Orelia climbed to her feet, eyes cold as she surveyed the slowly burning demon. Its form shivered and warped back to the human guise of Mouse.

"Orelia! Stop! Stop! Please!" Mouse screamed in agony as the skin of his face started to melt and drip to the sand. "Please!" The word was drawn out into a scream as patches of skull began appearing around the boy's terrified brown eyes.

"I believe I have passed the Harrowing." Orelia said, eyes narrowed on Mouse's oozing face.

The Fade went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Congratulations, Orelia."

Orelia staggered back from the dais of Lyrium, head spinning. Flashes of Mouse's melting face obscured her vision of the Circle tower. Her knees buckled and she felt rather than saw the floor rushing up to meet her. A pair of metal covered arms snuck under her shoulders and held her upright.

"You have passed your Harrowing."

That was Irving's voice, dancing to her through dust motes and the mutters of sleepy Templars. Orelia struggled to clear her vision, blinking rapidly over glassy green eyes.

"I," Orelia shook her head and focussed on the First Enchanter's heavy beard. "I did it. I killed Mouse."

"What's she blathering about?" demanded Greagoir.

Irving shook his head, watching as the young mage's eyelids fluttered shut. Greagoir shook his head, muttering something about "fainters" under his breath, and began calling out instructions to the gossiping Templars.

"That was one quick Harrowing." Muttered the Templar holding up Orelia's torso.

Irving looked the man over. He was a boy, really. A hesitant peach fuzz was only just beginning to sprout across his jawline.

"Indeed. She will be a remarkable mage." Irving gazed at the young face fondly. He cleared his throat with a blush when he noticed the Templar watching. "What's your name, son?"

"Cullen, sir."

"Cullen. Could you take Orelia back to the dormitories? She needs to sleep."

"Of course, sir."

Irving watched as the Templar hoisted the young girl into his arms and headed back down the stairs to the Circle's inner sanctums. The girl had done extraordinarily well. Better than Irving at his own Harrowing.

Greagoir paused in his instructions to glance at Irving, staring into space after the new mage. The Templar frowned.

Orelia sat up in bed, woken by the pounding of her heart. Mouse! She leapt sideways, the touch of hot breath on her face and a dripping yellow tongue…

"Woah! Hey! Slow down there, Amell."

Orelia skidded on her knees across the stone floor and banged into the wooden bed posts of the bunk across from hers. She whirled around to see Jowan leaning across her bed wearing a sheepish expression.

"Didn't mean to startle you. Usually you're such a heavy sleeper we have to magically amplify the tower bell to wake you." Jowan chuckled and sat on Orelia's rumpled sheets, waiting for the new mage to finish waking up.

Jowan's hair was still long and dark, tickling the jawline of his face. His nose still lifted up like someone was tugging its string and his hands were still dry and cracked from the cool autumn winds blowing through the tower. Jowan still looked like Jowan. The dorms still looked like the dorms. Orelia had thought things would look different after she became a mage.

"Jowan." She said with a sigh, clambering back onto the bed beside him.

"That's me." Jowan shoved her shoulder playfully, sending her sprawling back on the bed. "Congratulations! A full blown mage in the family. Well, the Circle family anyway." Jowan leaned forward eagerly, his chewed nails catching threads in Orelia's bed sheets. "So what was it like?"

"What was what like?" Orelia skirted the question.

Jowan rolled his eyes and flopped back on the bed, black hair spilling out across the white sheets like spilt ink.

"You know perfectly well what I mean. The Harrowing!" He sat back up, eyes burning in his gaunt face. "What did you have to do? Did they test your magic? Was it dangerous?"

Orelia shrugged uncomfortably. "You know I'm not supposed to tell you, Jowan."

He huffed and stood up, walking away from the young mage. "And I thought we were friends."

"We are friends! Oh, come on, Jowan." Orelia scooted to the edge of her bed and jerked a finger beneath the elastic rim of her slippers, covering her soft soles from the cold stone floor. "Don't be a jerk."

Orelia grinned at her old friend, waiting for his face to lighten up in response. It didn't. Slowly, Orelia took in the boy's figure. Shadows bruised the soft skin beneath his dark eyes and a layer of grease sat sticky in Jowan's unwashed hair. His robes were crumpled and it looked to be the same pair he had worn yesterday.

"What's going on, Jowan? You look terrible."

Jowan's jaw worked furiously, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Orelia reached out a hand and pressed it against his arm, feeling the wiry muscles beneath his thin robe tremble. Jowan sighed and returned to her bed, face ducking between his raw hands.

"I'm scared, Orry."

"Of what?"

"I'm scared they're going to make me Tranquil." Jowan's eyes focussed unseeingly on the purple and gold throw rug Orelia had woven a few years ago, spread out on the floor by her bed.

"Why in the Maker's name would they make you Tranquil?" Orelia ran a small hand through her knotted hair, grimaced, and grabbed a brush.

"Because," Jowan shuddered and watched his old friend part the red waves of her hair. "I should have had my Harrowing by now! I've been here at least three years longer than you and I've mastered all the apprentice level controls."

"I don't know, your fireballs could still use some work." Orelia teased, biting a copper pin between her teeth. "Wasn't it only last Wednesday you burnt down the Circle's stock of fungal remedies?"

"That was an accident." Jowan frowned. "I'm serious, Orelia."

Orelia gave pause, it was often Jowan called her by her full name, and examined the apprentice again. Jowan often thrilled himself on tower conspiracies, but this would be the first time he had lost sleep over them.

"Don't worry about it, Jowan. I'm a mage now. Maybe I can talk to the First Enchanter about it. I'm certain your Harrowing is just around the corner."

"Oh!" Jowan jumped up, smacking a hand to his forehead. "I forgot! Irving wants to see you."

"What, now?" Orelia asked. Her hand slipped and scraped the pin across her scalp.

"As soon as you woke up you were supposed to go." He grinned sheepishly.

"Jowan!"

Orelia yanked the final tie through the base of her French braid and dashed out of the common room. Jowan sank back to her bed, forehead creased with worry.

Orelia wheeled through apprentices and masters practicing spells in the library. She took the stairs two at a time, heading for the First Enchanter's quarters. Orelia slowed when she entered the hall reserved for Masters and guests. A few apprentices gossiped as they sorted shells in the laboratory.

"I heard that Templar, Cullen, say it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he had ever seen. She was in and out in a matter of seconds! I didn't know you could even get **in**to the Fade that fast."

"Well he would say that, wouldn't he."

Orelia paused behind the wall, a strand of red hair wiggling its way out of her braid to curl about her ear.

"What do you mean?" The woman's voice was echoed by the light chink of seashell against wood.

"Well, rumour is that Templar has a thing for the little green-gilled mage." The other woman said with relish.

"Tessa! Romance between mages and Templars is forbidden! And Cullen is heading for top of the order. No way would he damage his reputation by dabbling with a mage." The clinking became louder, as if the woman was trying to drown out the chance for further discussion.

"Well, that's the rumour anyway. Not much goes on this Circle without me finding out about it, you know."

"Yes, and not much comes out of your mouth without you making it up first."

Orelia walked past the laboratory, noting the click of teeth as both women clamped up. She rounded the curving hallway and knocked twice on Irving's door.

"Come in." Irving's gravelly voice barely made it through the heavy wood.

Orelia entered. Inside she was greeted with the spacious grandeur of the First Enchanter's quarters. Bookshelves covered every inch of the smooth, stone walls, jammed with tomes on spells from all over Thedas. Elegant rugs softened the floor in varying shades of blue and purple and hangings covered the scant spaces of wall left above the bookshelves. In the centre of the room stood a hand carved oak desk, piled high with books and scrolls. Irving stood behind it, an irritated Greagoir looking over his shoulder at Orelia. In the far corner of the room, leaning against a poofed armchair, was a dark stranger.

"Welcome, Orelia." Irving sat down at his desk, ignoring the sour looks Greagoir shot his way.

"You wanted me, sir?"

Orelia's eyes flicked between the obvious tension in the Knight Commander's shoulders and the Senior Enchanter's wrinkled face. The stranger at the back regarded her with black eyes, bright with curiosity.

"Yes. Formal congratulations are in order. You have passed your Harrowing and are now a fully-fledged mage. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim this morning."

"Heavily guarded, I might add." Greagoir said, shifting with a clink in his heavy armour. "Don't want any mishaps."

Irving ignored the interruption. Orelia wondered if the Templars ever wore comfortable outfits.

"I'm sorry but," the man at the back straightened and walked forward. "Her phylactery?"

"A vial of blood, taken from every apprentice on their admittance to the Circle. If a mage leaves the Circle and needs to be found the Templars use the phylactery to track them down." Irving explained. The man nodded contemplatively.

Orelia examined the stranger. Judging by his sleek armour he was obviously not a mage, but he didn't look like a Templar either. He had long black hair tied at the base of his scalp in a tidy braid. A trimmed black beard accented his sharp jawline. His skin was tan and wrinkle-free, except for a shallow emergence of smile lines around his eyes.

Orelia looked at Irving with confusion, rocking back on her heels in the doorway. She had never met someone from outside the Circle. She had been so young when she was brought in. Who was there to remember?

"Apologies for my rudeness." Irving waved the man forward. "This is the Warden Commander of the Grey Wardens."

"Please," the Warden Commander stretched out a hand to Orelia. "Call me Duncan."

"Nice to meet you." Orelia's voice crackled between normal volume and a whisper.

"The honour is all mine. I was just hearing from Irving that you hold an extraordinary Harrowing time. The Grey Wardens could use a power like yours to help fight in the blight." Duncan's voice was warm and generous in tone. Orelia felt like she was listening to sunshine.

"The Blight? You mean the darkspawn attacks?" Orelia looked over at Irving for confirmation.

"Correct." Said Duncan, drawing the mage's green eyes back to his black ones. "We wardens are recruiting from all over Thedas, trying to find more talented people to help us fight. Talent like yours."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Orelia's voice squeaked, green eyes widening in fear. "You want me to fight? Fight monsters?"

Mouse's melting face flashed once, blocking out the warden. Orelia's breathing quickened into shallow pants.

"Calm now, child." Irving stood up and walked over to the young mage; Greagoir huffed in the background. "What Duncan is saying is that they are looking for possible Grey Wardens here in the Circle."

Orelia shook her head, red curls falling fast from her braid.

"But not new mages." Greagoir said, stepping forward. "She is strong yes, but not well trained enough to leave the Circle." The Knight Commander's eyes were steely on Duncan.

"I don't want to leave the Circle." Orelia squeaked. "This is my home!"

Duncan's eyebrows furled with confusion as he surveyed the young mage's distress. She was actually trembling in her violet robe, fear draining all colour from her face. Maybe she really wasn't the best choice for this…

"My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you." Duncan bowed. "Of course I would not force you to go unless it were absolutely necessary, and it is not."

Irving nodded, his hand patted reassuringly on the girl's shoulder.

"Of course. Now Orelia, could you please escort Duncan to his quarters?" the girl nodded. "And once that is done, take the day for yourself. You have earned it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Orelia escorted the Warden Commander back to his chambers, avoiding eye contact and offering the barest hint of acknowledgement when Duncan thanked her for the company. She attempted to shake off the chills still sending damp sweats down her back.

She had melted the face off a man. Granted, it was really a demon who had been trying to kill her, but he, Mouse, had asked her to stop. He had begged her to. And she could have ended it there.

"I made him suffer." Orelia whispered, her steps faltering as she walked back from the warden's rooms. "I'm a monster."

The plush red carpet looked like blood. Orelia imagined for a moment she was standing in a field full of corpses, people praising her on her talent for carnage.

"But they don't know what happened. Do they? Is that what they did? Did we all have to kill him? I don't want to be a killer."

"Sorry?"

Orelia wheeled around, knees spinning across red fibres. She hadn't noticed herself kneeling on the floor. A Templar stood behind her, one hand caressing the pommel of his sword. Orelia staggered up, face burning with embarrassment.

"Nothing, Cullen. Sorry."

Cullen's face creased with worry, but his hand slipped away from the sword. The Templar's blonde hair was cut short around his head in slight waves. His brown eyes were soft in a face committed to the Templar order; from the stern set of his jaw to the furrow of his eyebrows, Cullen's face was the focus of his strict training.

"Are you alright? You were talking to yourself. Thought you might be…are you ok?"

Orelia nodded, hair swinging with the extra effort she put in. How could she have been talking to herself in front of a Templar? Mages were disciplined for much less in the Circles."I'm really fine! I was just, thinking about the Harrowing and how I killed Mouse and how his face melted and-" Orelia faltered and locked her hands over her mouth.

She hadn't meant to say that much. Not to say any of it, even to herself. And now Cullen… He was watching her with those kind brown eyes, body relaxed under the engraved flaming sword of his Templar uniform.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His face reddened slightly. "I mean, only if you want to. It might be better to talk to one of the other mages about it. They would have gone through it too. They'd understand it better."

"No, I'd, I would rather talk with you, if you don't mind, I mean if you have other duties you need to attend to, then that's fine."

Cullen shook his head and waved her forward. They walked down the hallway a short distance. Cullen ducked his head into an open room and waved for Orelia to follow him. The workroom was empty. The marble fireplace across the room contained a dying flame, fading over the dull tremble of red coals. Cullen grabbed a log off the pile in the corner and tossed it into the fireplace. The coals sparked and promptly went out.

"Damn." Cullen muttered, patting his pockets down for flint. "Do you have..?" he began, looking over his shoulder at Orelia.

Orelia grinned at the sparking, orange flames dancing in her palm.

"I've got this."

She flicked her fingers at the logs and they burst into a cheery warmth. Cullen slid back off his feet and leaned against the bench. Creases hardened in the leather lining of the Templar's pants when he drew up a knee. With a sigh, Cullen pulled off his heavy metal boots and wiggled white socks at the fire. Orelia sat down on the floor a little ways from the Templar, tucking her robe under her feet and wrapping her arms around her knees.

"So," Cullen mused after a moment of silence, embraced by the crackling flames. "What was the Fade like?"

Orelia shrugged a shoulder, staring at the fire she had conjured. What was the Fade like? How could you sum up a place so unreal in a few words?

"Well," she started, but stopped with a frown. "It's hard to describe, for one thing."

"Can you fly in the Fade?"

"What?" Orelia stared at Cullen.

He was grinning and wiggling his toes at the fire. He looked more like an apprentice than a Templar. It's how he's sitting, Orelia decided. The other Templars never sit down with us.

"I don't know if you can fly. I didn't when I was there, anyway."

"You should try next time you go. That's certainly what I would do, but I dream about flying all the time." Cullen grinned at her. "But I digress. What did you have to do there?"

Orelia shifted sideways, her left foot sending a waterfall of tingles up her calf. She hesitated before speaking.

"Can I tell you? Not that," she broke across Cullen before he could speak. "I don't want to tell you. I do. But we're not supposed to tell other apprentices, is it ok I tell a Templar?"

"Well, I don't see why not. Once you're a mage, it's up to you, right? If it helps, I promise I won't tell anyone." Cullen offered her a gauntleted hand. "I swear."

Orelia shook his outstretched fingers gingerly, only allowing the barest connection between her small pink digits and his metal ones.

"Alright. I touched the Lyrium and it was like passing out, only instead of everything going black, it went silver. When I woke up, I was in the Fade. The colours are…weird there. Like I said it's hard to describe. Lots of purples and greens I guess, but not like they are here." Cullen nodded, watching Orelia with interest. "I met a man there. He said his name was Mouse because he could turn into one. He told me he was an apprentice like me, but he wasn't able to defeat the demon so he just stayed in the Fade." Orelia sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The firelight glanced off strands of it, turning the colour a shiny copper, rather than red. "He was nice, a bit jumpy, but I could see the Fade doing that to someone. The whole place is like…" She shifted sideways to face Cullen and another stream of sparks jumped out of her sleeping foot. "Like your foot falling asleep. Everything is tingly and sensitive and you don't know how much the next step might hurt." Cullen nodded, his face thoughtful.

"Did you believe what that man, Mouse, said?"

"Not…completely. It seemed off, but a lot of what he said made sense too. If I hadn't defeated the demon, I just wouldn't have woken up, right?"

Cullen nodded assent. A Templar would be versed in all the different outcomes of a Harrowing.

"So I followed him and he showed me the demon. It was definitely a demon." Orelia shuddered. "Burning, flaming, rage. It was monstrous. I felt so small." Orelia trailed off, staring at the fire. It wasn't the same kind of flame at all. This brought warmth and comfort, not hatred.

"How did you beat it?"

Orelia shook herself and met Cullen's curious gaze.

"With magic. It was fire, so I used ice. It's one of the principles they teach us here. Opposites defeat, likenesses enhance." Orelia sighed and stretched out completely, letting her slippered feet hover next to Cullen's socks for a moment. "That was the easy part. Mouse helped me kill it and suddenly, no more rage demon. It didn't seem the easy part at the time." Orelia sighed.

"What happened?" Cullen's eyes were focussed intently on her face, memorizing every curve and curl.

"Mouse happened. He tried to convince me that was the end of my task. That I need only wake myself back up."

"How do you wake yourself out of the Fade? I've seen a couple of Harrowings now and yours was so fast." The look in his eyes… Orelia struggled to identify it. Fear? Fervor? Awe?

"Honestly, I don't really understand it myself yet. It's like, when your job is done, you just wake up. Anyway, Mouse tried to convince me that to wake up I just had to imagine opening myself up. To him."

"You mean he," Cullen paused and glanced around. The wooden door was still securely shut behind them. "He tried to get inside you? Possess you?"

Orelia mimicked his cautionary glances, before whispering, "Yes".

Abomination. The word hung heavy in the air even though neither had pressed it from their lips. The nightmare of every mage and the mission of every Templar was not spoken of lightly in any Circle. Orelia had never seen an abomination and nor, did she think, had Cullen. Their Circle had been free of such disasters for several years, thank the Maker.

"But, he didn't." Cullen broke the momentary silence.

"No, he didn't." Orelia shook herself slightly.

Images scrawled out in ink on faded parchment of human bodies twisting, snapping, breaking, and something horrible ripping free of its center. A fate hovering at the edge of every mage's nightmares.

"How did you stop him?"

Orelia's green gaze seemed to pierce through Cullen. A fierce light blazed from within, heatless, pale, but visible through every pore.

"I burnt him. I melted his greed and his face and his yellow tongue. He begged me to stop and I didn't." The light faded as quickly as it had appeared and Orelia looked as young and shaken as before. "I could have stopped, but I didn't."

Orelia turned away from the Templar and stared at the fire. The flames had burnt down to glimmers, embedded in the black charcoal of the log. Cullen opened his mouth as if to say something. He wanted to break the silence, offer her some word of comfort. He wanted to let her know she would never have to do something like that again. But how could he? As a mage she would be running from demons the rest of her life. It was the curse of her existence and the only cure, by the Chantry's standards, seemed to be death or Tranquility.

"You had to do it, Orelia." Cullen finally said.

The girl had tears in her green eyes, warping the colour into shards of bottleglass. Cullen reached out a tentative gauntleted hand. He stopped and yanked at the metal covers, shedding the steel from his skin. He pressed a slightly sweaty palm to Orelia's shoulder.

"We have to defend ourselves. It's just the world we live in. It isn't safe and you shouldn't hate yourself for admitting you have the power to protect yourself." The words came slowly from Cullen as he tried to explain the admiration swirling in his stomach.

Orelia stared at the hand on her shoulder, the words sinking in a half-beat behind Cullen's voicing them. A rosy warmth lapped across her body. It felt like a summer day on the lake, when the shallows were warmed by the sun and the apprentices played outside the stone walls for the few short hours permitted. The feeling was controlled, yet unstoppable, swarming through Orelia's skin and lighting a fire in her stomach.

Cullen's hand slid down her bicep and curled around the crook of her elbow. His calloused fingers caught at the thickly woven threads, pulling against the violet. His voice was quiet in the stone room, dulled under the beating of Orelia's heart. Cullen's voice had trailed off, his lips still parted as if expecting more words to come. He leaned towards Orelia, metal clinking against the stone from his shift in position.

"Cullen?"

The call came from outside of the room, drifting through their wooden door, their hidden place. Cullen leaned back and pulled his gauntlet back on. Orelia sat frozen, watching the Templar. Inside, she was vibrating with nerves.

"Where are you, Cullen? Knight Commander wants to see you?" The voice boomed passed their door and kept walking. "Has anyone seen Cullen?"

"I should go. Uh, Templar duties, Knight Commander says jump and we say how high." He chuckled nervously, not looking at Orelia. His face had paled quickly from the flush of warmth from the fire. The Templar pulled his boots on, hopping to steady himself and walked to the door. Orelia remained on the floor.

"Uh, I'll see you later, Orelia?" Cullen stared back at the red headed mage, palm hanging on the curved doorknob.

"Yes." She breathed back.

Cullen walked out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Orelia could hear his boots clacking against the stone floor as he rounded the hallways. Orelia stood up and brushed a few dark wisps of soot from her robe. She had never before noticed just how warm his eyes were.


End file.
